


3.5 Minute War

by ladydragon76



Series: Honorable Hostage [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> The peace effort is moving forward, enough so that even Megatron’s been flirting with Optimus.  Unfortunately, the peace is about to be broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3.5 Minute War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [White Aster (white_aster)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/gifts).



> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** Honorable Hostage  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Optimus Prime/Megatron  
>  **Warnings:** Sticky, some not terribly graphic violence  
>  **Notes:** Special thank you to WhiteAster who commissioned this story. My FIRST commission. Thank you so much, it was a pleasure working with you!

"Not that I doubted Bluestreak, but this really does look incredible," Optimus said as he walked beside Megatron.

New Kaon was hardly more than a half hour's drive from New Iacon due to energy constraints, but this was the first time any Autobot other than the Honorable Hostages had set foot on her streets. Optimus was genuinely impressed, and with Cybertron currently tumbling past a star, the late morning light shone off of the metal brightly enough to dazzle the optics.

Megatron's optics lit, and the pride in his expression was unmistakable. "You should visit more often."

Optimus grinned beneath his mask. _Here it comes,_ he thought, recognizing the purring tone from their meetings and comm calls. "We're staying busy as well." 

"So Thundercracker says." A pause. "Amongst other... things."

And there it was, though Optimus certainly preferred the flirting tone and teasing smiles over fighting and trying to kill one another. It was also nice to know that the seeker was satisfied with the renewal of their physical relationship. Optimus certainly was, though he still wanted to cringe every time he thought about just how _badly_ he’d treated Thundercracker in the beginning.

Offering a smirk and wave toward a tall building just ahead of them, Megatron said, "Nearly everyone is content to remain in this building still. There has been some branching out. The Constructicons are currently living over there." He flicked a hand in a gesture down the street. "They'll finish clearing a building and checking it structurally, then move on once it's livable.

“The Stunticons have taken over that building across the street, and one of our foundling medics- I don’t know if you know of him, Knockout? He has the Constructicons keeping an optic open for a building that would make a good maintenance clinic.”

"Ratchet would love to grab all of us for overhauls, and I've heard from my own science team that there has been talk of wanting to open a new science center,” Optimus relayed. “Perhaps we could agree on a building on our borders so Autobots and Decepticons could work together? If that’s viable and the Decepticons are willing, perhaps a medical center could be set up as well?" Optimus wasn't sure if everyone would be ready or interested, but things had been going rather smoothly since Starscream and Bluestreak had spent two weeks setting the Autobots straight on just what they _should_ be doing as hosts to the Hostage. Over the last year things had really relaxed, tensions were all but gone, and only a few determined holdouts of paranoia remained.

"Starscream would like that. He's been working out of a small lab he's set up for himself for a while now and complaining about the lack of intelligent and engaging debates over... Primus only knows."

"And how is your mate?" Optimus asked as they entered the Decepticon home building.

Megatron's smirk was a walking advertisement for interfacing. "Insatiable and curious. Feel like indulging him?"

"Maybe later," Optimus replied. "What is that room with the colored lights?"

Megatron took the deflection in stride, and led the way over. “Frenzy and Rumble decided to open a coffee shop.”

“We don’t drink coffee.”

“And humans don’t have disco lights or dance floors in their cafes from what I recall, but everyone seems to like it, and it keeps the twins out of trouble. Mixmaster has even taught them some of his energon recipes.”

Megatron pushed the door open, and Optimus spotted Frenzy by the counter. “Hey! Hungry?” Frenzy called out.

“Not right now. Send something good up to my quarters in half an hour.”

“You got it, boss!”

Optimus got a wave, and returned it as he followed Megatron back out, hurrying to look around at all the lights and tables and random objects before the door shut. He would have liked to explore it more. Perhaps later. “Am I staying for lunch?” he asked.

“At the very least,” was purred just beside Optimus’ audial.

Optimus shook his helm, and pushed Megatron away. “Doesn’t your seeker keep you entertained enough?”

“Aren’t you hungering without yours?” Megatron countered, unbothered by the shove and still smiling.

Optimus shook his helm again, and trailed along. Despite the distraction of the flirting, it was easy to see how happy Megatron was with all he and the other Decepticons -and Bluestreak too- had accomplished. The Decepticons they came across all greeted him politely. They were calm, and it made Optimus wonder if the Autobots would respond the same if he gave Megatron the grand tour of their home. He wasn’t entirely certain they would, not as uniformly as the Decepticons. Then again, there were many he had not yet seen, and the Autobots that wouldn’t, or just couldn’t bring themselves to be pleasant could all remain in their quarters. It was possible there were Decepticons doing just that. Optimus’ visit was hardly a surprise. He and Megatron had been discussing it for nearly a month, and _everyone_ had been told about it.

They stepped off a lift and walked down a hall before climbing a half dozen stairs to a landing. Megatron opened the door and waved Optimus inside.

“Welcome to my home.” Megatron made an expansive gesture as Optimus stepped inside. The entry was open to a light and airy lounge which held large, comfortable-looking furniture. Floor to ceiling windows looked out of the gleaming city and a balcony with more seating, but the asked-for treats and energon were sitting on a low table between two sofas. Megatron headed straight for them, dropping into a relaxed, almost sprawled position on one.

Optimus joined him, sitting with a little more formality on the other sofa. “It’s very nice.”

“You haven’t seen the best part of it yet.” A glass tumbler was filled nearly to the brim with energon and held out for Optimus. “Help yourself,” Megatron invited, nudging the plate of treats closer to him.

Nervousness suddenly struck. Optimus had never been in Megatron’s presence without his battlemask, but it would be rude to skip sharing energon when such an obvious effort was being made to make him feel comfortable and welcome. The mask retracted, and Optimus all but hid behind his energon, much to Megatron’s amusement.

“Does my attention make you so nervous?”

Optimus lowered the glass, helm tilting a little. “No. Primus, how many times have we beat the slag out of one another?”

“Well, I’m not interested in _beating_ the slag out of you now.” Megatron chuckled. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” Primus, he was! Optimus could feel the heat in his face. He was probably hot pink already.

Megatron stood, easily stepping over the low table, and sat beside Optimus with his arm resting along the back of the sofa as he leaned in. “I haven’t heard you tell me to stop yet.”

The low tone sent a zinging tingle of awareness through Optimus, and he scrambled for a witty response. “Stop what?” That wasn’t it.

Clearly amused, Megatron reached out and drew a finger down Optimus’ upper arm. “This.”

“Oh. That.” Optimus shrugged, trying for nonchalant and knowing he was way off the mark. “I don’t… mind. I do know, however, that part of what drove-” Wait. He could word that better. “Part of what affected your behavior so much was a damaged bond. I would not wish to interfere with that.”

Megatron settled more comfortably -and closer to Optimus- and shook his helm. “As you should know from Bluestreak, Starscream and I are not exclusive.”

“Yes, but Bluestreak is the Hostage, and Thundercracker and Skywarp are Starscream’s trine.”

Megatron was shaking his helm before Optimus even finished talking, but paused to sip his energon before replying. He also leaned back against the sofa, giving Optimus a little more space to breathe. “If Starscream is jealous of anything, it would be that he’s not here and missed the fun.” He turned serious optics on Optimus. “If you don’t want to interface with me, say so directly. It will not impact any of our work together.”

Startled, Optimus blinked, then shook his helm. “Uh… No, it’s really not that. I know some of Autobots are more- er… less restrictive in the definitions of their intimate relationships, but-”

And suddenly Megatron’s mouth was on Optimus’, and all he could see was the slightly bleared ridge of Megatron’s cheek and the bridge of his nose. Megatron’s optics were shut and his lips moved warmly, softly against Optimus’, who was surprised by the sudden swell of pressure under his spark. His own optics fell shut, and he pushed back into the kiss.

In some ways, Optimus thought they’d been building to this for ages. Before he had become Prime he had been fascinated and attracted to the young revolutionary. They made a good team the few times they had been forced to work together even during the war, and there was always an odd… tension between them when they grappled on the battlefield.

Optimus would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t gotten a thrill from all the flirting and teasing lately, or that he hadn’t fantasized about exactly this happening before he’d left that morning. So when Megaton pressed his weight against him, Optimus let himself be laid back. When a knee wedged between his own, he spread his legs to make room. And when Megatron’s hand cupped his panel, he moaned and let it retract without any further ado.

“I always knew you wanted dominated by me,” Megatron murmured against Optimus’ lips. His fingertip circled the rim of Optimus valve, and the smirk could be tasted.

Optimus gave Megatron’s lower lip a sharp little bite in punishment, then moaned as he was bitten back. Then again as thick fingers pushed into his valve.

“Is this what you want, Optimus?”

“Yes,” he gasped in reply, hips lifting to take the fingers deeper.

“So slick already. Is your morality appeased enough?”

“Shut up.” Primus, was the slagger going to hold that against him? Optimus would stop this right now. Which must have shown in his optics and the frown he gave Megatron because said slagger grinned and bent to kiss Optimus again without argument.

Heat prickled through Optimus, and he relaxed into it, willing and happy to let Megatron take the reins. He wanted to dominate? Fine, Optimus was still busy doing all the work to make up his grievous error with Thundercracker -not that he minded-, but if he was going to do this, he was going to be greedy about it since it probably wouldn’t ever happen again.

There was a soft _click_ , and Megatron gave a few more easy thrusts with his fingers before pulling them free only to replace them with the thick length of his spike. Optimus’ neck arched back, optics shutting as sensor nodes lit with pleasure.

“Hard,” Optimus gasped, forcing himself to meet the deep crimson of Megatron’s optics. He rolled his hips as best as he could, respiration deepening and speeding up as a tingle of bliss shimmered up his spinal struts. “Want it hard. Want to feel _all_ of it.”

Megatron _shivered_. “As you wish.”

Optimus only had a moment to feel smug over the effect his words had, then he yelped, voice arcing higher than usual as Megatron drew back and plunged in, driving deep and setting a brutal, _perfect_ pace.

“Fragging- Nnngh!” Optimus planted one foot on the floor and arched up into each thrust.

If he could have thought clearly at all, Optimus would have been surprised at how easy it was to give himself over to the moment. Megatron’s powerful hands gripped him by the upper arms, restricting Optimus’ range of motion, leaving him to dig his fingers into lateral chest armor seams for leverage. He could feel the heat in his face, self-conscious but incredibly aroused by how Megatron’s optics stayed locked to his. He felt exposed, laid bare by the heated gaze, and whimpered softly.

Optimus wasn’t so far gone as to not recognize the flare of lust from Megatron every time he made some little sound. It was a heady feeling to know _he_ was inspiring this in Megatron, and he threw aside inhibition, letting go of control, his own desire ratcheting up with every small, spark-felt sound that escaped him.

One of Megatron’s hands pushed down Optimus’ arm, then side. It dragged in a heavy-handed grip over his pelvic plating, down his thigh, and grasped the back of his knee to lift it.

Optimus cried out, back arching right off the plush cushion as the next thrust drove the end of Megatron’s spike right up against a cluster of very sensitive nodes. A wave of hot bliss shot up through Optimus’ belly, made his spark slam hard within its crystal, and left him reeling. Megatron grabbed the back of the sofa, keeping Optimus’ leg up, leaving him vulnerable and open, shouting as each shock of pleasure reverberated through his body.

Megatron growled, somehow thrusting even harder, and from deep inside Optimus a star went supernova, shattering him with it. He didn’t recognize his own voice as a ringing, keening wail echoed off the high ceiling.

“Yes...” Megatron’s voice was a hiss by Optimus’ audial as he leaned down, thrust twice more, again, then held deep as a rumbling, seismic moan poured from him.

Optimus gasped and shook, feeling the hot flood of Megatron’s release, valve spasming into another overload that, as it ebbed, stole his consciousness.

His last thought before thick, velvety darkness claimed him, was that Megatron was going to be very smug about this, and Optimus was going to let him be, and maybe even ask for more.

Primus.

~ | ~

Thundercracker was still snickering as they headed toward the monitor room, and Optimus was tempted to toss the seeker over his shoulder and take him back to the berth.

“I’m not making fun,” Thundercracker said with a very wide smile. “Just damn. I mean when Starscream told me Megatron knocked you out, I figured, yeah! Of course he did. He knocks me out half the time, but then _I_ managed it, and I’m not really that good.”

“You are plenty good. Just… maybe don’t tell him?” Optimus paused before the door, hand hovering by the keypad and smiling behind his mask. “He was so proud, and it really was good. I’m just not used to using my valve. It’s rather… intense.”

Thundercracker laughed again, and blessedly let the subject as Optimus opened the door.

“Hey, bossmech!” Blaster greeted. “Sorry ta disturb ya, but this isn’t any random contact. It’s a ship, unknown make, and it’s headin’ right for Cybertron.”

“Do we have a visual yet?” Prowl asked as he entered, quickly followed by Red Alert, who hurried to a seat and began tapping away at the keys to log in and pull up the details for himself.

“Not yet,” Blaster replied, “but it’s closin’ fast.”

“What’s closin’ fast?” Jazz asked as he arrived.

“Alien ship,” Blaster repeated.

“Be too much ta hope they might be new friends, hurryin’ over ta say hi?” Jazz asked.

Red Alert snorted.

Optimus looked toward the door, optic ridge arching as mech after mech squeezed into the monitor room. He shook his helm a little at Prowl when his mouth opened, likely to order them all out. Let them stay, Optimus thought. This was the most exciting thing to happen since the end of the war, and first contact with a new race was always something to experience. Optimus wouldn’t deny them that, though hopefully they were a friendly-

An explosion rocked the building, setting the lights to flickering and the alarms blaring. Optimus sighed, glad to have everyone close by since it looked like they might have to defend themselves.

“It’s the ‘Cons!” -was that Gears?

Primus! Optimus looked around, but Cliffjumper was already pointing at the screen. “It is! They’re attacking!”

“What?!” Thundercracker’s deep voice rose over the sudden cacophony of shouted arguments and insults. “Shut up! Those aren’t seeker turbines! Primus, you _really_ think the Decepticons would attack _now_? Come off it!”

“It’s not the Decepticons!” Red Alert snapped. “Fraggers are hard to spot on scanners! It’s an invading alien force, _which_ I said we should be watching for, but did anyone listen to me? _No_ ~, of course not! It’s just crazy, paranoid Red! Aliens will never attack _us_!”

Prowl grabbed a seat, Jazz taking the last one beside him, and the alarms were reduced to flashing red lights as the siren was muted.

Optimus sighed again, but chose not to address Red Alert’s justified ranting at the moment. He could apologize later. He turned to the gathered Autobots and raised his voice to be heard. “Everyone, listen! We’ll try to make contact and broker peace, but just in case, Ironhide, I want you to lead the way to the armory, get everyone’s weapons reissued and let Thundercracker find something he can use.

“Blaster, raise Megatron if you can. Prowl-”

There was a blast of feedback that almost managed to drown out Blaster’s pained curse, and had mechs throughout the room clamping their hands over their audials. It was followed by a garbled string of guttural sounds.

“Translate,” Prowl ordered Teletraan.

It took a crucial moment, but then “ ** _-immediate surrender! Your planet is now the property of the Yehvarian High Command. Your people have-_** ” The words became unintelligible again as Teletraan struggled to translate the alien measurements of time. “ _ **-to vacate the planet, or we will destroy you and take the planet’s resources regardless of loss of life! We demand your immediate surrender! Your planet is now the property of the Yehvarian High Command. Your people have one solar cycle to vacate the planet or we will destroy you and take the planet’s resources regardless of loss of life! We demand your-**_ ”

Red Alert muted the message as it began to repeat again, and turned to face Optimus.

Jazz snickered. “All your ore are belong to us.”

Nervous laughter followed, not at all masking Red Alert and Prowl’s stereophonic sigh of, “Jazz.”

“I got Megs,” Blaster announced.

“ _Yes, and thank you for that mangling of my name._ ”

“Welcome!” Blaster chirped.

Optimus stepped forward, placing a hand on Blaster’s shoulder in warning. “I have no intention of vacating our planet. Have you or any Decepticons ever heard of this people before? These… Yehvari?”

Megatron shook his helm. “ _No, and you’re damn right we’re not leaving Cybertron. Those fools aren’t taking our world away! Not when we’re finally at peace and doing so well._ ”

Nodding, Optimus squeezed Blaster’s shoulder. “Hail them. Tell them that we do not wish for bloodshed, but we will not leave our home. However, if they wish to enter peaceful negotiations, we are open to trade if we have something they require.”

“Savvy sales pitch,” Jazz grinned.

“ _Do you think that’s going to work?_ ” Megatron asked, voice full of doubt. “ _They launched a stealth attack against our cities without a hint of warning. They aren’t the trading type._ ”

“We must try,” Optimus insisted.

“I think Megs’s right, boss.” Blaster shook his helm, and Jazz gestured agreement. “They’re receivin’. I can tell they’re receivin’, but all they’ve done is turn up the volume on the surrender demand.”

“ _Soundwave concurs, Prime. His signal is reaching them, but they are refusing to respond. Talking isn’t going to work._ ”

“I can’t just declare war on an unknown alien race,” Optimus insisted. Primus, they’d _just_ ended a war! They couldn’t start another without _trying_ to reach out!

“They aren’t answerin’ hails, Prime,” Blaster said. “Slag, I even sent them a visual of you and Megatron and warned them that we’re a warrior race that can totally defend ourselves here, and they just ain’t answerin’.”

“I can’t-”

“Oh, yes we can, and we will,” Prowl spoke up. “Ironhide. Armory if you please. Everyone, follow him. Megatron, how much of a risk would it be to send a few of your armed fliers here with weapons for Thundercracker, so they can bring Bluestreak his rifle?”

“ _Skywarp will be there in-_ ”

There was a _vop_ of displaced air, and Optimus turned to see Skywarp beaming at them all. “Hi!”

“- _now_ ,” Megatron finished. “ _Skywarp, bring Bluestreak’s rifle on your return. Prime, when the fighting starts, Thundercracker would be most effective with his trine._ ”

Optimus’ mouth worked silently. Damnit! He didn’t want a battle!

“He absolutely will,” Prowl agreed. “I’m transmitting my and Smokescreen’s tactical comm frequency now. If Soundwave would link it with us, I think the three of us would work well together in directing combatants.”

Optimus growled. “Blaster, until everyone is in place, I want you broadcasting my message. You will tell me immediately if they reply.” He glared into the monitor, facing Megatron head-on. “If they choose peace talks, we try that option.”

“No,” Prowl said, standing, making everyone, including Ironhide -who was making little headway in getting everyone out and to the armory- pause and stare at him. “Skyfire, Cosmos, I want you both in orbit. If we could get Blast Off and Astrotrain out there too, that would be helpful,” he added to Megatron.

“Nuke it from orbit?” Jazz snickered.

Prowl actually smirked. “Only way to be sure.” He looked around, that veil of seriousness falling over him again. “Move!”

Optimus stood by as Megatron’s communication was closed and mechs filed out in a hurry. Thundercracker gave his arm a squeeze, then tugged Skywarp along with him, following Ironhide.

Prowl stepped up next to Optimus. “I understand, sir. I truly do, but we need to be prepared should they opt not to respond, which seems very likely.”

Optimus could only nod, but did so with a heavy spark.

~ | ~

Optimus stood beside Megatron at the edge of what used to be Iacon. Now it was rubble with a few tall shells of buildings needling into the sky and casting long shadows in the early morning sunlight across the war-flattened ground.

 _This_ was what war brought, but Blaster had tried, and so had Soundwave. The… enemy had chosen this, and Optimus fell to reaching into the Matrix and praying hard to Primus that no more of His creations were lost in this mess.

“They’re not terribly impressive,” Megatron said.

He wasn’t wrong either. The aliens were tall for organics, perhaps a head taller than Bumblebee, but they were willowy. Their armor had obvious and very exploitable weaknesses despite the jagged, threatening protrusions. If it weren’t for the energy blasters in their hands and the fact that they traversed _space_ to attack, Optimus would think them more primitive than humans.

“Such a small force too,” Megatron added, correct again, given that Optimus was counting maybe a hundred and fifty fighters on the ground.

“ _Aerial support looks minimal as well,_ ” Starscream reported over the open comms.

“We are letting them shoot first,” Optimus reminded, and stepped forward as the alien force drew to a halt. “Prowl?”

“ _We are all in place. Gestalts are ready to form up on orders, flyers are ready to launch, and between Soundwave, Smokescreen, and I, I believe we have all the angles covered._ ”

Optimus nodded. “One last try, Blaster.”

“Ready when you are, bossmech.”

With Blaster amplifying his voice, and Teletraan translating his words, Optimus spoke. “Retreat and leave our planet now and you will not be harmed. Please, we do not wish to kill any of you.”

A roar went up, and then blaster fire from the aliens sizzled through the air, crackling lightning yellow and blue, and smelling sharply of ozone.

Optimus grunted as he hit the ground, Megatron already rolling to his feet and returning fire after shoving him out of the way of the first volley of shots. Optimus hurried to his feet as seeker thrusters whined overhead, engaging the enemy’s bulkier aircrafts. The Yehvari were so outclassed, it was hard for Optimus to return fire.

Then Sideswipe yelped, going down hard to the sound of Sunstreaker’s enraged roar.

 _No_ , Optimus swore, and began firing into the alien ranks. He barely noticed that he was hit, the blasts tingling and buzzing over his plating before dissipating.

Laughter sounded from somewhere, and from the corner of his optic, Optimus saw Sideswipe standing back up. “Fragging made my foot numb!” he exclaimed before whooping and charging into the midst of the aliens.

“Prowl, their weapons aren’t having any effect,” Optimus relayed.

“ _Oh, they’re having an effect, all right,_ ” Starscream said, sounding amused. “ _I haven’t seen Skywarp fly like that since his last drinking binge!_ ” And yes, that was definitely Starscream giggling now.

“Weee!” Jazz hollered, dancing into the fray.

Optimus snickered, then shook his helm. This wasn’t funny. Or… it shouldn’t be. Luckily, the aliens seemed to realize just how ineffective their weapons were, and were fleeing.

Megatron stumbled over to Optimus, laughing _really_ hard. “And you were worried!”

“This is horrible,” Optimus said, a giggle bubbling up. “Primus! Did their weapons really make us all drunk?”

“ _Not all of us, sir,_ ” Prowl replied. “ _Some of us were not shot._ ”

“Lookit ‘em run!” Sideswipe crowed.

“Yeah!” Bluestreak shouted, bouncing on his feet, doorwings waving as his gyros spun. “Flee before our might, ya fraggers!”

Sunstreaker and Jazz were on the ground laughing so hard they couldn’t seem to stand back up, and Optimus couldn’t help but laugh at them as he leaned into Megatron for balance.

“This was horrific. It was a slaughter.”

Megatron snickered. “Oh lighten up. We’re not chasing them. Those that are dead or injured brought it upon themselves.” He clapped his hand on Optimus’ shoulder, nearly sending him sprawling, and making them both laugh even harder.

“Ratchet. Before you do whatever you’re going to do, can you and the other medics get some hangover remedies ready for… whenever we all sober up?”

“ _Yeah. Lucky bastards,_ ” Ratchet muttered, then started calling Autobot and Decepticon names.

“ _Sir? Soundwave and I agree that we should keep a team in orbit. Skyfire and Blast Off will remain up and guarding for the first shift, and then Cosmos and Astrotrain can relieve them._ ”

“That sounds good, Prowl,” Optimus said. He stumbled as Megatron tugged at his arm. “I’m unfit for command at the moment.”

“ _I know, sir,_ ” Prowl was laughing at him. He knew it. “ _I’ll handle things until you’re back to yourself._ ”

“Ok. Thanks.”

“Come,” Megatron said, tugging at Optimus’ arm again. “The best way to clear an overcharge-”

A whine came over the comms, followed by Starscream’s voice. “ _No fair! I missed the first one_!”

“Then come along,” Megatron retorted.

Optimus managed to get his feet over the debris, and was wobbling along with Megatron well enough now, and snickered. “Yeah! I can take you both!”

A low moan sounded, and Skywarp’s chipper voice came over the comms. “ _Nope. He’s busy already. Maybe we’ll all drop by later._ ”

“ _I’m gonna go ahead and shut down the comms now,_ ” Blaster said. “ _Have fun, boys, and someone better come find me for some of that fun real soon._ ”

~

Optimus wasn’t sure how he got to Megatron’s apartment. He vaguely remembered shoving the mech against the wall of the lift, but since their panels were still shut and he didn’t feel terribly sticky, it must not have lasted long. However, the walk down the hall and up the steps was just gone, but here they were.

He resisted when Megatron tried to drag him toward the sofa. “No,” Optimus said, wriggling free. “I never did see the best part of your place. Not ‘facin’ me on the couch again.”

A grin spread slowly over Megatron’s face. “Very well then. This way.”

The lights came on as they entered, dimly glowing and leaving the silver of Megatron’s plating a burnished gold as he crossed to the berth. Optimus followed, smirking and letting his battlemask retract. “Not ‘facing me here either.”

The startled confusion was amusing, and Optimus laughed even as he tackled Megatron to the berth. They rolled across the surface, wrestling for dominance, and when Optimus finally managed to pin Megatron to the padding, his hips were wedged between those thick, powerful thighs. He rocked down, scraping their panels together and growling. “Surrender.”

Megatron laughed, knees drawing higher to hook over Optimus’ hips. “Never.” His ankles crossed under Optimus’ aft and tugged him down so their panels rubbed again.

“You power bottom, don’t you?”

A sharp laugh barked from Megatron. “How do _you_ even know that term?”

“I’m hardly innocent.”

Megatron snorted. “Says the mech that blushes when I toss innuendos at him.” He paused, grinning. “You should play rougher with Thundercracker. He would like it.”

Optimus tipped his helm, blinked, then reared back so he could balance on his knees. He planted his hands against the insides of Megatron’s thighs and pushed until he broke the hold around his waist. Megatron laughed, hands reaching, but Optimus batted them aside.

“Come now, I haven’t offended you , have I?”

“No,” Optimus replied, flashing a grin of his own. “Now shut up and open this panel.” He rapped a fingertip against Megatron’s interface cover, and waited to be obeyed.

The panel retracted, Megatron’s rather generous spike extending as it soon as it was able. Optimus looked from it to Megatron’s face, smirked, then slid back to lie between his legs. He hadn’t even touched the mech yet, but he was already moaning.

“I’ve had fantasies about this,” Megatron confessed, hooking one hand behind his helm to help prop him up to see, the other caressed the side of Optimus’ helm. Optimus’ vents hitched, and little zing of arousal zipped from where a thumb stroked a finial right down into the pit of his belly.

Optimus held Megatron’s optics as he leaned down and gave the tip of his spike one light, playful lick. “Have you?” Lips glided down the length of Megatron’s spike.

“Oh yes.”

Grinning, Optimus licked out, swiping his tongue across Megatron’s valve, and chuckling at the gasp and way his hips jumped. “What about this?” he purred, gripping Megatron’s hips, and then thrusting his tongue in.

Megatron’s intakes caught, hand tightening reflexively on Optimus’ helm. “I don’t… often… Oh slag me.”

Optimus pressed his mouth hard to Megatron’s array, purring again as he searched out the nodes embedded in the valve lining. He was also never going to forget that little, hungry whine Megatron just made. His senses were filled with the sweet, thick tang of lubricant, and Optimus burrowed into it, greedy and wanting to wring every sound he could from Megatron.

“Prime!”

Optimus wondered if Megatron was as sensitive as him, but certainly hoped he wouldn’t overload and lose consciousness. His own spike pressed hard against the inside of his panel, and he ached to sink it into the slick valve he could feel already rippling against his tongue. Pits, he could _taste_ the charge.

“Optimus! Fragging…” Megatron grasped him by the finials and pulled, making Optimus laugh.

“I’m busy here,” Optimus said, looking up. “What?”

“Spike me now, or I’m throwing you down to ride it whether you like it or not!”

An optic ridge arching, Optimus pushed himself up, panel retracting and spike extending even as he teased the rim of Megatron’s valve with his fingers. “Oh? This what you want?”

“Yes, you glitch.” Megatron leaned up to grab Optimus by the arms and pulled him over him. Of course they were both still overcharged from those ridiculous weapons, which resulted in Optimus falling and laughing as he landed sprawled over Megatron’s chest.

“So you don’t often either, huh?”

Megatron growled, wriggling under Optimus, knees pulling high again as he tried to muscle Optimus into position. Optimus chuckled, but shifted, lining his spike up by touch. The first nudge of the end against Megatron’s valve caused a gasp, and Megatron went completely still.

“Ready?” Optimus asked, poised for the first thrust, and unmoving as well.

“I will restart the damn w- _Ahh_!”

Optimus groaned as he sank deep. Megatron’s valve rippled around his spike, calipers spasming as they struggled to reset and accommodate the sudden intrusion.

Megatron grabbed his hips and pulled. “Move! Slaggit, Prime. _Move_!”

Optimus chuckled, nuzzling into Megatron’s neck to bite at the cables and scrape his teeth over the main energon line. “Gotta work off the charge. Don’t want a headache tomorrow, do you?” He slowly drew back, then pushed in just as slowly. “Harder the overloads the more of it we’ll clear.”

Megatron probably wanted to retort, but the words were lost under a low moan. Optimus grinned, and forced himself to continue at the slow pace a little longer. He absolutely understood the thrill of creating a reaction in one’s lover, but there was something _more_ to it simply because it was _Megatron_ under him, writhing, grinding up into each thrust to wring as much pleasure as he could from them.

Their vents whirred, systems revving hard, and Optimus began to thrust harder, faster. “I want you loud,” he demanded. “Want you screaming my name.”

“Scream mine,” Megatron ground out, then gasped, optics flickering as his back arched.

Optimus drove into him relentlessly. “You first.” Pleasure buzzed over his sensornet, and the tight ball of need was swelling, pushing near the base of his spike, but he was _not_ overloading first. No matter how Megatron’s rumbling moans and desperate gasps turned him on. No matter how arousing the way the plush lining of his valve was as it clenched and squeezed.

A tingling thrill swept from Optimus’ spark as Megatron’s limbs locked up, back bowing off the berth. He growled, feeling the first pulses of his own overload in response as Megatron’s valve drew tight around him. There were no screams, or even names being shouted, but the deep, resonant moan was just as good, and Optimus let go, tumbling over the edge as ecstasy whited out his vision, hips surging with each hard crest of his release, and drawing more low sounds from Megatron.

Optimus collapsed over Megatron, incapable of moving for a minute. “Primus.”

“Mnh,” Megatron agreed, limbs sprawled and flopped limp against the berth like a puppet that’d had its strings cut.

It took a lot of effort, but Optimus managed to withdraw and shove himself off to the side. Megatron could doubtless handle his weight, but neither of them would be comfortable for long like that. He dropped to his back, sinking into the cushy berth with a sated sigh. They both lay for a long few moments, vents working hard to cool overheated systems and just silently staring at the ceiling.

“How’s that charge?” Megatron finally asked.

“Better. Yours?”

“Fine.”

Optimus frowned a little. “What possible benefit could there be, in shooting your enemies with so much energy that they become drunk?”

A soft _shushing_ sound from the berth covers accompanied Megatron’s shrug. “I don’t think that was their intent. They saw giant robots and thought they could fry our circuitry.”

Optimus snickered. “No, that’s what interfacing’s for.”

Megatron huffed a laugh. “Isn’t it just.”

Silence reigned again, and Optimus sighed, relaxing further. “You know, this berth is _really_ comfortable.”

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by WhiteAster


End file.
